Reforging Connections
by BlackFox12
Summary: Oliver needs Slade's help. Contains slash and spanking and is probably more of a crack!fic. Don't like? Don't read


**Reforging Connections**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from the television series Arrow and I'm not making any money from this fic

**Summary:** Oliver needs Slade's help

**Warning(s):** Spanking (more of a revenge/catharsis); spoilers for the first two seasons of Arrow; AU; some mentions of violence and references to torture

**Pairing:** Slade/Oliver - slash

**Author's Note:** This idea has been playing around in my head for a while. I realised I wouldn't get any peace until I fed the plot bunny. It might well be vastly ooc and more of a crack!fic, but I just kind of wrote where the inspiration took me, so...

* * *

They hadn't told him much.

Slade had been expecting to spend the rest of his life rotting in the prison. As his mind had healed and he'd realised Shado was nothing more than a hallucination, he'd started to feel that maybe this was the best place for him to be.

The time spent in solitary had provided him with enough opportunity to think about those days on the island and to realise the sickness that had caused him to change so much. No matter what Oliver had done, Slade had realised he should never have reacted the way he did and gone after someone who'd once been an ally and friend.

But he couldn't dwell on his past right now, because he was too busy looking around the interrogation room he'd been brought into.

All the guards had said to him was that there was a person here to see him. And then they'd left Slade with his hands cuffed to the table.

The door opened and Slade raised his head, focusing on the familiar figure who stepped through with his one good eye.

Slade felt a stab of surprise when he saw Oliver Queen stepped into the room, but he quickly pushed that away, schooling his features into a blank mask. "I'm surprised you're in here without the prison guards."

"It turns out money can buy a lot... including privacy in a foreign prison." Oliver took a seat at the table opposite Slade, holding eye contact with him... a far cry from the scared, tortured rich kid he'd been at their first meeting. "I need your help."

"You don't need my help." Slade leaned forward slightly, a sense of pride filling him when Oliver didn't even flinch. Without the madness... without Shado's ghost dogging his every step... Slade could remember what allowed him to consider Oliver a friend in the first place. But if he left the prison, there was no guarantee the sickness in his mind wouldn't return. It was why he couldn't consider seeing his son.

Not until he was safe to be around.

"Your ex-partner's in Starling City."

Slade narrowed his eyes, knowing straight away that Oliver was referring to Billy. "You're wrong. I killed him." It hadn't been easy to consider, but he'd known that it was necessary when his former friend had betrayed everything the two of them stood for.

"You stabbed him in the eye. It might have missed his brain."

"I'm a trained soldier. I don't miss," Slade stated.

Oliver met his eyes unflinchingly. "A lot was happening that day."

"I don't miss." Slade didn't shout, but there was a harsh edge to his voice that he didn't like. Oliver didn't seem affected by it... maybe this was what he'd been expecting. Slade clenched his fists, trying to force down the anger that made it so dangerous for him to be around other people. "Do you have any proof? Eyewitnesses?"

Instead of answering with words, Oliver took something out of his pocket and shoved it across the table towards him.

Slade looked down, his jaw tightening when he saw a duplicate of the mask he and his partner had once worn. "Anyone could make a mask like this and wear it."

"I agree. I had my doubts too." Oliver paused. "But duplicates of this mask have been left next to bodies. People who have been tortured in the same way he used. I know his handiwork. I see it every day."

Slade leaned back so that he could study Oliver's face, looking at him in a way he hadn't allowed himself to before. "You've changed."

Oliver looked back at him. "So have you. Or are you just biding your time, waiting for me to give you my back so you can attack?"

"You came here."

Oliver opened his mouth, but then closed it again. Whatever he'd originally intended to say probably wasn't what came out. "What do you need me to do so that you'll help me? Let you hit me? Yell at me? Torture me...?"

For a split second, Slade saw that scared rich kid, underneath the warrior he'd become. Oliver had broken, repeatedly, and managed to put himself together again. Slade wasn't sure he could put himself back together again. Maybe he was too fractured, or it had been too long... but there was a glimmer of desperation in Oliver's face and Slade found himself missing the island. Not the danger they were in... but the close camaraderie they'd shared, even before Shado had joined them.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he indicated the cuffs. "Take these off." It was almost a challenge. How well could Oliver read him? Did he really trust Slade not to take the opportunity to attack him?

Oliver looked at the cuffs, then stood and walked round to the table. Crouching down, he worked on the cuffs until they opened. "Will you help?"

"I don't know what kind of help you expect me to be." Slade stood up, seeing Oliver take a step back... though his face didn't change. Slade's hand darted out and he grabbed hold of Oliver's arm.

Even though Oliver had indicated he wouldn't fight back, Slade was still surprised when he only felt Oliver tense up. A look at the younger man revealed that Oliver was readying himself for a punch.

Slade moved fast, shoving Oliver round and pushing him over the desk, twisting one arm round behind his back. Lifting his hand, he brought it down in a hard slap in the centre of Oliver's backside.

Oliver jumped and turned his head round to look at Slade. "You're _spanking_ me?"

"It looks like it." Slade brought his hand down in another swat and then a third. As he settled quickly into a series of swats down to Oliver's thighs, he felt like the remnants of that anger were fading.

Oliver grunted, but didn't try to struggle, though he shifted when Slade delivered sharper swats to his thighs and his sit spots, smoothed out because of the position he was in. Except the more Slade spanked him, the worse he felt.

Slade let go of Oliver's arm and moved back.

Oliver stood up slowly and turned to face Slade. His face was pale, but he showed no visible sign of having been affected by what Slade had just done. "Feel better?"

"No."

An awkward silence fell between them. The direction of Oliver's gaze was on Slade's eyepatch and he stepped forward, reaching a hand out before letting it drop. "I'm sorry."

Slade wasn't sure what the apology was for. He didn't know if it was because of what had just happened... or if it was for everything that had happened between them since the first moment they met. Without any conscious thought, he reached his hand out, lacing his fingers through Oliver's.

For just a split second, the mask Oliver usually wore was gone and Slade could see the raw vulnerability in him. It didn't last long, but Slade knew that Oliver had let him see his weakness... maybe to make things equal; maybe to prove that there were still feelings between them, despite everything that had happened.

"I remember when you did that the first time."

Slade looked at Oliver, but didn't need to ask what he meant. "I told you that you'd get yourself killed if you didn't learn discipline."

"You insisted that attachments would get me killed. That caring would get me killed." Oliver watched him. "But you wouldn't have done that in the first place if you didn't care."

"What are you saying?" Slade tried to summon up his earlier anger, but the emotion was gone now. All he felt was tired.

"That maybe it made you feel worse this time because you were still angry."

Slade glanced at the door and then at Oliver. "How long do you have?"

"Until I signal them."

Slade stepped round to the chair he'd been sitting on, aware of Oliver moving after him. He sat down and pulled Oliver forward and across his lap, ignoring the small gasp that escaped the younger man.

This position felt more natural and Slade lifted his hand, bringing it down in a sharp swat. Oliver tensed, but didn't make a sound as Slade began a methodical pattern of swats, moving from left to right, flicking his wrist to add a bit more force to each smack.

The first time Slade had done this, it had been right after Oliver had chosen to go to the enemy camp. Oliver had been shocked by Slade's response, but had accepted his authority. And now, he was accepting the spanking for a different reason.

A soft whine escaped Oliver's lips and he shifted over Slade's lap as already-smacked skin was covered. And as Slade could feel the heat through Oliver's jeans, he felt like recovery was going to be possible. Not because he wanted to hurt Oliver, but because he was prepared to let this be a step on the road to recovery.

By the time Slade stopped, Oliver was breathing heavily. Slade helped him up and the two looked at each other, before Slade reached round to Oliver's neck, bringing him close so that he could press their lips together.

**The End**


End file.
